


Courtship Rituals of Angels and Snake Demons

by TourmalineQueen



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alloromantic relationship, Asexual Relationship, No beta we proofread like mne, Other, Pining, Sneks and Birbs have very different courtship rituals, and so M/M doesn't work for them, are telling each other they love each other, in very different languages, so much pining, tagging this as Other because they aren't both men, two idiots in love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:42:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24510106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen
Summary: Snakes (and Snake-Demons) have very different courtship rituals to Birds (and birdlike Angels). One particular demon and one particular angel have decided to woo their counterparts with the best rituals they know. Sadly, much like two people divided by a common language, Aziraphale and Crowley are telling each other the same thing but don't know that's what's being told.Misunderstandings and courtships abound. Also pining. Lots and lots of pining.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 68





	1. Pheromone Phailure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on Human courtship ritual advice, Aziraphale tries scent. It goes about as well as you might expect. Crowley POV.

Crowley was dozing in a particularly sunny spot, enjoying the peace and quiet of a closed bookshop while Aziraphale attended his semi-regular barber's appointment. He hadn't slept well since the end of the world hadn't, well, ended, and he just wanted a nap in a quiet, sunny spot. No, scratch that, Crowley didn't want to nap - he wanted to _bask_.

Crowley had no idea how long he basked in the solitude of the sunny spot in his angel's bookshop when he was alerted by a scent that almost had him transform to a serpent. He hissed, sleepily angry at the hellish odour. The bell over the door jangled.

"Crowley! I'm back, my dear!" Aziraphale trilled as he crossed the threshold.

Crowley got to his feet and shoved Aziraphale to the side. He stuck his face out of the door, inhaling hard, trying to track down the odious aroma. When he stuck his tongue out he felt Aziraphale tug on his shoulder, pulling him back inside.

"My dear, is everything quite alright?" Aziraphale asked, concern writ on his features.

"What'sssss that sssssmell?" Crowley hissed, craning to look out the now-closed door. The smell seemed to have followed Aziraphale into the shop.

"Ah, I had hoped you'd like it," said Aziraphale, giving Crowley a winning smile, "my barber suggested it. He said it's very popular nowadays - Crowley!"

The angel cut himself off abruptly, as Crowley snarled viciously, and licked Aziraphale's pulse point. 

"It'sss vile, get it off, angel!"

A look of hurt flashed across the angel's features.

"My barber said that you- that a lot of young men find it appealing, Crowley. It was quite dear, you know," Aziraphale added.

"Asssk for a refund, it smells like Hasssssstur. Disssssgussssting," Crowley replied, angry that his serpent side was coming through.

Aziraphale looked stricken, "it smells like a Duke of Hell? Oh, my dear, I had no idea! I just wanted to try a scent that might attract - I, er, that might be more appealing. I had no idea that it would remind you of Hell. I'll remove it at once." With a snap of his finger the scent had vanished.

Crowley finally let his shoulders drop from around his ears, and stopped hissing. "Sorry, angel."

Aziraphale gave Crowley a soft smile, and reached out a hand to him, "think nothing of it, dear boy. I'll see if my barber can suggest something different. O-or you could join me at the barber's and help me choose a new scent, if you wish."

Crowley took the proffered hand, and kissed Aziraphale's knuckle. "Ngk, maybe."


	2. Good and Evil Wrestling?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is trying to gradually move into the Bookshop. This chapter we get an insight into his statue, and what it looks like to a snake demon and to an angel who doesn't really get snake demon subtext. Aziraphale POV.

"Crowley, dear?" Aziraphale called softly. He was standing in the bookshop, looking at a new piece of art that had appeared on a new table. A piece of art that was definitely ... not Aziraphale's taste. It reminded him of ... of forbidden feelings and things of which Heaven Definitely Would Disapprove.

"Hnnng?" Crowley sort of responded sleepily from the back room.

"Are you awake, dear boy?"

"Hnng," Crowley sort of replied. "Awake enough."

"Dear boy, what does this sculpture mean?" Aziraphale asked, eyeing the two winged figures doubtfully.

"Ah, that - that's Good And Evil wrestling for dominance, with evil likely to triumph," Crowley said, appearing as if by magic, sunglasses firmly in place. He kept his voice carefully neutral as he continued to speak. "D'you like it?"

"Ah, well, Crowley, it isn't _quite_ my taste," Aziraphale said, wishing he could read Crowley's expression better. It felt as though this was some manner of test and he was Going To Fail. "I think it's _your_ taste and that's what matters."

"Y-you don't think it'sss ..." Crowley trailed off, making a few wordless noises as e tried to find the right turn of phrase, "... ah, erotic?"

"Well, it does look rather like they're, ah, I suppose _making love_ is a misnomer of a euphemism, but you catch my meaning. But it wouldn't scream eros to me the way a bust of Alexander and Hephaistion would," Aziraphale answered, trying to be both honest and kind. "Would you prefer to keep it in our living quarters rather than the public part of the shop?"

Crowley looked annoyed. Aziraphale fingered his signet ring anxiously; he was Definitely Failing Crowley's Test. Crowley snapped his fingers and sculpture and table vanished.

"Crowley?"

"It'sss fine," Crowley said, sounding angrily neutral. "I sssent it back to the flat in Mayfair. It'ss not right here. I'll find something more ssssuitable for the booksssshop." 

Aziraphale cringed internally upon hearing the demon hiss on the sibilants, he recognised a sign that Crowley was fighting strong emotions.

"Dear boy, please don't think it doesn't fit in here, or that _you_ don't fit in here, I just, I simply do not understand _why_ you like it, and why you want to display it here, so close to the door. You know how careless the humans can be, I'd hate to see it get damaged," Aziraphale reached a hand out to Crowley, but the demon reared back and shook his head. 

"You're a terrible liar, angel."

"My dear, I-"

"Don't, don't, I need to get ssssome air," Crowley hissed and stalked past Aziraphale. He slammed the door hard enough to knock a small book off a shelf on one of the stacks.

"Oh, dear," said Aziraphale, wringing his hands and feeling very foolish and alone. 

He walked slowly over to the fallen book, a slim volume of herpetology that Aziraphale did not remember acquiring. The spine was damaged and the book fell open to a page with an illustration of two black snakes wrapped together, with a small description: two snakes wrestling for dominance as part of the courtship process.

"Oh," said Aziraphale, gently closing the book. " _Oh_. Oh, fuck!"


	3. Dance Dance Revolution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Birbs dance to signal attraction. Humans do it, too. Demons have been known to do the funky chicken from time to time as well. But angels? Angels Do Not Dance. Aziraphale on the other hand? He's not like other angels. Crowley POV.

Crowley had recovered from his hissy fit (and he had hissed loudly and for ever such a long time, mostly to annoy the angel) and they had agreed to place the statue in the private quarters of the bookshop, and Crowley was surprised to see how much care and attention the angel actually paid to it. Sometimes compromise isn't awful, the demon was coming to realise. He still wasn't sure the angel understood why the sculpture was so important, but it didn't matter to him. There were other, more important things to think about.

Like, for example, why the angel had put on a J S Bach record and was hopping and leaping rhythmically around the bookshop, smiling encouragingly at Crowley. Crowley, who had met and spoken to Bach in Hell vaguely thought the record was some sort of minuet or gavotte, but couldn't really be certain.

The angel, who was watching Crowley's befuddled expression, slowed and halted, his smile dimming and his shoulders tensing slightly.

"Well? What did you think?" Aziraphale asked, continuing to speak before Crowley had time to take a breath to reply, "I - I know it's not as impressive without other participants, but it did fall out of favour among humans after only a humble few decades, so nobody in particular like to dance a gavotte anymore..."

The angel continued to babble nervously about the history of the gavotte and the lovely young human gents with whom he had learned it, aren't humans very inventive, they dance for fun _and_ courtship, but dancing in nature only happens for courtship, it was intriguing to encounter beings who enjoyed dancing in that delightful club in Portland Place, after all, he had to entertain himself while Crowley took a sulk nap... Crowley let the angel's voice wash over him. He liked listening to the angel talk about his special interests. The angel was usually happier, but it felt special to Crowley despite that.

"Angel, demons don't dance very well, why don't we call it a day and head to the Ritz?" Crowley suggested.

He didn't understand why Aziraphale looked so crestfallen.


	4. Stranglehold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some snakes wrap around one another as part of courtship and mating. Crowley decides it's time to stop being subtle. There may be misunderstandings ahead. Aziraphale POV.

Aziraphale was nonplussed. Crowley had, for reasons known only to himself, taken to wrapping arms and legs around Aziraphale as the angel puttered around the shop reshelving and orgnising the stacks. Aziraphale, a Principality - an angel built for strength - barely felt the weight of Crowley and, frankly, given how little physical contact he was used to was quite happy to potter around the shop with his dear serpent clinging to him like a limpet.

"Angel," Crowley muttered at one point, sounding unsure of himself in a way that was rare for Aziraphale to hear from the demon.

"Yes, Crowley? Oh, could you pop this one up on that shelf? You're closer," Aziraphale asked, handing a book to the demon.

"Mmmnyeah," Crowley replied and complied, tucking his nose into the nape of Aziraphale's neck and not pursuing his question.

Aziraphale was perfectly content to spend the day wandering his shop with Crowley wrapped around him, and, having no desire to see this unusual bout of closeness and touch end did and said absolutely nothing else, except occasionally asking the demon to shelve something he could reach more easily. He wondered how he might request more of the same in the future, if Aziraphale chose to be truly honest with himself. This closeness, this contact, what could almost be described as _affection_ if one were to examine what one wanted it to be, was really rather lovely. He didn't want to startle Crowley into letting go or heaven forfend actually leaving. It was curious, however, and Aziraphale wished he was able to find the courage to ask. Crowley was better at asking questions than he, and he always had been. It was a wonder Crowley wasn't pelting him with questions today.

Better not to risk changing things, Aziraphale decided, and to just enjoy the closeness of his favourite demon, wrapped around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I saw this one post on Tumblr months ago that I can't find anymore that was what sparked the idea for this fic, and this chapter specifically


End file.
